


Is It The Look In Your Eyes?

by UniverseOnHerShoulders



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23414848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniverseOnHerShoulders/pseuds/UniverseOnHerShoulders
Summary: At a party on the edges of the galaxy, the Doctor runs into a very familiar face... one who will take some serious explaining to the fam.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan & Graham O'Brien & Ryan Sinclair, Thirteenth Doctor/River Song
Comments: 17
Kudos: 273





	Is It The Look In Your Eyes?

**Author's Note:**

> An extension of [this drabble](https://universe-on-her-shoulders.tumblr.com/post/190589610700/thirteen-and-team-tardis-find-river-somewhere) because it needed doing.

The party was, in the Doctor’s eyes, supposed to be a fun night out. She’d wanted to show the team that she could manage to attend events without causing generalised chaos or having to repel alien invasions, and so she’d suggested that they all get dressed up and gatecrash a party held by the chairman of… well, she wasn’t sure, precisely, but she was sure he was very important. She’d bumped into him once or twice on her travels, and he’d seemed like the sort of person who’d throw a good party, and so here they were; two hundred years in the future, ensconced in a corner of his massive house, and taking full advantage – in the team’s case, at any rate – of the free bar. Ryan was currently bouncing in his seat, having discovered the artificial gravity of the chairman’s private planet was somewhat less strong than Earth gravity, and Yaz was giggling as he floated up and down, occasionally turning on the spot or letting his drink bob about alongside him. Graham was supervising them both with a fondly exasperated expression, ever the doting grandad, and occasionally drifting off to the bar to get himself another shandy or fetch Yaz another orange juice, while the Doctor sipped her iced tea thoughtfully.

Whilst opulent, this house wasn’t really her thing. It was all glass and chrome; the entire place seemed to be made of windows, and she had the distinctly uncomfortable feeling of being in a fishbowl or a zoo exhibit. People of all colours – from soft, peachy white, the same as her, all the way to purple and blue – were milling around, chatting in low voices and sipping luridly-coloured drinks, and she wished she could relax in the same way that they were; wished she could shake the niggling suspicion that something was wrong. She couldn’t put it into words, not in any way that the team wouldn’t laugh off as paranoia, and so she simply kept sipping her drink and looking around them, occasionally laughing at Ryan’s antics as he bobbed up and down and trying to dismiss her sense of trepidation.

It had started as a tingling on the back of her neck; the hairs standing on end as she’d felt a sudden, swooping sense that there was something decidedly strange about this party. She’d tried then to ignore it, but now it had crept over her completely, demanding her full attention as every cell of her body screamed at her that something, somewhere, was not right. It was distracting; it was requiring every part of her concentration not to leap out of her seat and run around the building with the sonic held aloft, but she had made the team a promise that tonight would be normal, and she was determined not to break it. No weirdness. Not tonight.

There was a sudden, sharp crackle from outside, and she leapt to her feet instinctively, her chest rising and falling as she stood poised to run, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Something was wrong. She didn’t know what, but she needed to, and it took her a moment to realise the team were staring at her with concern. It took her brain a moment to catch up, but when it did she realised the sound had been nothing more than a firework; still, something about the party continued to weigh heavily on her mind, and she looked around herself with wide eyes, trying to put her finger on it.

“Everything alright, Doc?” Graham asked breezily, although she could see the worry clouding his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh,” she forced a smile, looking down at her drink and then waving her glass at them with as much faux-cheer as she could manage. “Just… all out of iced tea. I’ll be right back.”

She all but sprinted away from them, pushing through the crowds of people until she made it to the wide French doors that led into the garden. There was an expansive patio covering more than half of the space, dotted with outdoor heaters and little clusters of rattan sofas, but it wasn’t those which drew her attention; it was a small knot of people stood at the far end of the space, all of whom were engaged in deep conversation, breaking off occasionally to laugh. They did so as she watched, their positions shifting, and the Doctor froze.

In the centre of the group was a woman wearing a plunging red top and a pair of leather trousers so tight that the Doctor wondered, for one brief moment, whether they were painted on. She was laughing the loudest, tossing her head so that her blonde curls bounced; or she was, until something seemed to draw her attention to the Doctor and she fell silent. She knew, of course. River always knew.

The Doctor raised a hand lamely, and River had shoved her way out of the little gang of hangers on and was making a beeline for her. A second later, strong arms were flung around her before she had time to react, and she leant into the hug a little self-consciously, putting one arm around her wife and feeling some of her earlier panic alleviate. She’d known there was _something_ about this place, only it hadn’t been anything dangerous; it had been her wife. The relief was dizzying.

“Oh my god,” River said excitedly, pressing kisses to her forehead, then pulling back and cupping her face in her hands, admiring the Doctor with a pleased grin. “Oh, look at you! Well, you kept this one quiet, didn’t you? And you look fabulous, of course, but how are you finding it? It must be quite the shock, sweetie… you should’ve _called_ , I would’ve _helped_ … not that you need it, of course, but I just… what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” the Doctor said tightly, closing her eyes and hugging River back fiercely. It had been so long since anyone had held her that the sensation had been uncomfortable at first, but now she feels safer than she has in years; it’s all she can do not to simply cling to her wife and refuse to let go, but she knows that might look somewhat strange to the other partygoers, and especially to her friends. “It’s good to see you.”

“And it’s good to see you, but what on earth are you doing at a party? Remember that dreadful one we attended in… was it 1971? And you drove the host’s car into the swimming pool? I thought you vowed never again… or are you hunting something down?”

“I’m not hunting anything down,” the Doctor said, her face still buried in River’s shoulder, her mouth twitching into a grin. “Except you, apparently.”

“Well, you always had a predilection for that,” River laughed then, and the Doctor realised how much she had missed the sound. Pulling away, she basked in the glow of her wife’s smile; River’s eyes were still roving over her, her grin intensifying. “What _are_ you doing here then?”

“Oh, I brought my friends. They deserved a night out where we don’t end up getting shot at.”

“Friends?” River’s expression brightened, then took on a mischievous expression. “Well, they might end up getting shot at, if I don’t like them.”

“Please do not shoot my friends,” the Doctor deadpanned, extricating herself from River’s arms and feeling abruptly panicked that her wife might not take kindly to her new friends. “I shouldn’t even have to say that aloud, and yet here we are.”

“Well,” River tipped her a wink. “Some of them have been _vastly_ unsuitable, and not just because I fancy them.”

“Behave.”

“Shan’t.”

“Shan’t introduce you if you won’t,” the Doctor warned, sticking her tongue out at River childishly. “So there.”

“You’re so pretty,” River sighed dreamily, her hand settling on the Doctor’s cheek and her thumb skimming over her jaw. “Look at you, with your little bob and your eyes and…”

She leant forward and before the Doctor could react, they were kissing. She half-remembered this; half-remembered where to put her hands and lips and tongue, but that had been in another body and another time, and their teeth clicked awkwardly a few times before they fell into a natural, familiar rhythm; River leading, and the Doctor following. Same old, same old. When River pulled away, she was smirking gently, and the Doctor felt her cheeks colour, grateful for the darkness.

“See?” River beamed. “So, so pretty. And so, so _mine_. Now, are you going to introduce me to these friends of yours, or not?”

“Right,” the Doctor said, trying to remember how to think in a vaguely linear fashion. People around them were staring, but she didn’t care; she took River by the hand as decisively as she was able and led the way back to the room in which she’d left the team.

Ryan was turning somersaults in mid-air now, cheered on by Yaz, while Graham was sitting to one side and watching them with a fond expression that indicated precisely how much he’d like to be joining in, but wasn’t quite sure whether it was appropriate at his age. The three of them all froze as the two of them approached, their eyes flicking from her face to River’s face, and then down to their entwined hands.

“Everyone,” she began brightly, determined not to allow her nerves to get the better of her. “This is my wife, River.”

“Get out,” Graham said in stupefaction, his mouth falling open in genuine shock. “You never said you were married.”

“Or that she’s got a weird name,” Ryan muttered, earning him a swift elbow in the ribs from Yaz, which he ignored in favour of continuing: “Or that she’s hot.”

“Oh, I _like_ you,” River purred, smiling at him in her most winning way. “I very much like you. What’s your name?”

“Ryan,” he muttered, his cheeks colouring under the intensity of her gaze. “Ryan Sinclair.”

“What a weird name,” River deadpanned, earning a snort of laughter from Yaz, and turning her attention to her. “And you’re…”

“Yasmin. Yaz. And this is Graham.”

“Three of you?” River arched an eyebrow in the Doctor’s direction, and she blushed. “Well, the TARDIS must be awfully cramped.”

“It’s not too bad,” Graham shrugged. “We keep out each other’s way when we want to. We don’t when we don’t. Look, no offence, but she’s never mentioned having a wife.”

“Sweetie,” River turned her attention back to the Doctor, feigning a look of great hurt and placing one hand on her chest in an overly-theatrical manner. “Why haven’t you mentioned me?”

“You _know_ why,” the Doctor muttered, shuffling uncomfortably from foot to foot. “Besides, I wasn’t anticipating… this.”

“You ought to know by now that I get around.”

“I do,” the Doctor said in a weary tone, unsure whether her wife was teasing or genuinely irked. “But I didn’t think… you’ve never said anything about…”

“Haven’t I?” River’s eyes gleamed dangerously. “Well now. Spoilers.”

The Doctor groaned. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting,” River shot back, pulling away from her. “Would I start?”

“Yes.”

“Rude,” River raised her eyebrows and began to move away from them. “Very rude.”

“Wait. Stop. I’m sorry, I just… I’m sorry, River. Please. Promise me you won’t go,” the Doctor pleaded, reaching out and taking River by the hand, holding it as tightly as she dared. “ _Please_. Promise me.”

“I’m only going to the bar,” River laughed, throwing her head back as she did so and starting to dance on the spot to the music trickling into the room from concealed speakers, but the Doctor could see the uncertainty in her expression, and the anxiety that lay just below the surface. “Which is a definite necessity, sweetie. What are you drinking?”

“Iced tea,” the Doctor said at once, not letting go of her wife’s hand. “Peach. And don’t change the subject; you’ve done moonlight flits before.”

“They were not moonlight flits,” River rolled her eyes impatiently, but guilt flashed across her features at the accusation. “Atraxia Major didn’t even have a moon.”

“No, but you still left me waiting for you for two days,” the Doctor said sadly, remembering how it had felt; sitting in the hotel for hours, wondering and hoping that her wife would return. She still recalled the moment she’d understood that River wasn’t coming back; still recalled how much it had broken her hearts. “I really thought you were coming back… and then…”

River’s expression turned abruptly sombre. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, giving the Doctor’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Really, I am. I was just… overwhelmed.”

“And I wasn’t?”

“It’s…” she sighed. “Let me get us both drinks and we can talk about this, alright?”

The Doctor let go of her hand with reluctance, watching as she disappeared into the throng of people filling the room.

“So,” Ryan said, letting out a long breath. “Why haven’t you mentioned your hot wife before?”

“Ryan!” Yaz groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Down, boy.”

“Yeah, son,” Graham chuckled. “She’s a married woman. As, apparently, is the Doc, who is also apparently a woman of many secrets. Got any others you fancy sharing? Any kids we don’t know about?”

Something must have flashed across the Doctor’s face, because a moment later, he added:

“Sorry. I know it’s none of my – or our – business.”

“It’s fine,” the Doctor sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t tell you, because technically… well, she’s dead.”

“She don’t look very dead,” Ryan noted helpfully, earning himself a punch in the arm from Yaz. “Ow! Knock it off! I just mean… dead people don’t usually dance at parties.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?” Yaz asked, frowning. “Either she’s dead, or she isn’t.”

“River’s like me,” the Doctor explained. “She travels in time. She’s dead at one point, but not dead at others. It’s… messy, and complicated, and she doesn’t always know what’s coming. But she always knows me; always recognises me. Every time. And every time, it gets so much harder to say goodbye, not knowing how long we have left.”

“Well,” Graham said levelly. “It seems to me that the most sensible course of action would be to just… make the best of it, no?”

“I’m trying,” the Doctor assured him. “Really, I am. It’s just…”

“I know what it’s like to not know how long you’ve got left, Doc,” Graham reminded her. “And don’t you dare waste a second of the time you’ve got with that woman.”

“You’re right,” the Doctor shot him a grateful smile as River reappeared at the other end of the room, bearing a tray of drinks and snacks. “Now, if you ask her really nicely… she might do her Cleopatra impression.”


End file.
